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Chapter 63
Chapter 63. For Whom the Bell Tolls (Part Two)
Fick rose from his seat, straightened his collar, and walked steadily toward the lecture platform.
In the seats of the East Saphile camp below the stage, Alex leaned forward slightly, his gaze following Fick’s figure closely.
Clark was so nervous that his leg was shaking. “This little bastard is actually pretty handsome.” Jesus sat quietly, already holding paper and pen in his hands, prepared to take notes.
Fick stood behind the lecture platform and swept his gaze across the entire venue—the cold-eyed scholars in the South Saphile camp, the scrutinizing gazes of the traditionalist knight order representatives, and the expressionless stares of the royal observers.
Еnú m̀ ã .і̆ d
He took out the few sheets of draft paper he had spent the entire night writing, unfolded them, and glanced at them.
Then he folded the papers, tucked them back into his pocket, and said nothing.
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When Fick stood silently on the stage, he was not passively waiting. Instead, through his upright posture and resolute gaze, he exerted pressure on the audience.
This silence broke the audience’s original rhythm of idle conversation, forcing their attention away from one another and back onto the speaker.
The Gestalt principle in psychology held that when people faced an incomplete or paused scene, the brain would produce a powerful drive to complete it.
This stretch of silence created psychological uncertainty. To eliminate that discomfort, the audience would spontaneously stop talking and concentrate fully, waiting for the speaker to open his mouth and close that gap.
W е_b n ӧ v́e l Е̂nũ.m̈ а̌
Meanwhile, social psychology proposed that those who dared to occupy time in public without rushing to please the audience were usually regarded as people of high status.
This calm pause displayed the speaker’s absolute control over the scene, establishing authority within the silence.
Leonard furrowed his white brows. Why did this fellow suddenly feel so imposing? Some South Saphile people who had originally looked down on Fick also began to sit upright.
Fick: Stunned, are you? This is called the blank-space effect.
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After the entire venue quieted down, Fick finally spoke. “Everyone, before I begin, I would first like to ask a question.”
He turned and pointed to the area beside Leonard, where a Royal Knight responsible for maintaining order was standing. “After this majestic Royal Knight retires, how many silver coins can he receive each month?”
W̄е bǹ о vе̂l Е ǹŭ m á
The question came abruptly. Leonard was slightly startled, and fragmented discussion also sounded below the stage.
A knight order representative from South Saphile frowned and answered, “According to the law, anyone who has served for twenty full years receives one silver per month.”
“One silver.” Fick repeated the number and nodded. “Then allow me to ask another question—what is the market price of one standard piece of Black Magic Crystal?”
This time, no one answered, because everyone knew the answer.
Fick said it himself. “Fifty silver.”
His voice remained calm. “A Royal Knight who risked his life for the kingdom for twenty years receives a pension of one silver per month after retirement. And one piece of Black Magic Crystal that can ease crystal addiction to the greatest extent costs fifty silver.”
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“In other words, this knight would have to go without food or drink and save for more than four years before he could afford one thumb-sized Magic Crystal.”
Some people below the stage began to fall into thought, but Fick did not give them time to think and continued, “Fifty silver converted into copper coins would be too much to fit in a carriage. Yet now, even pensions are being withheld for all sorts of reasons. My father is the proof!”
His voice gradually grew heavier.
“Pete Louis, a Royal Knight, served for twenty-three years. After retiring, he could not find work for two years, and the Retirement Office stopped his pension on the grounds that he was an unemployed vagrant. He relied on Gray Crystal to ease his crystal addiction. He could not afford Black Crystal, so he repeatedly used low-quality Gray Crystal filled with impurities until the Gray Crystal crumbled into powder.”
“When he died, our family did not even have the money to bury him.”
Fick made a tactical pause. The audience below the stage was utterly silent.
Е̌ n̊ u m̆ ӑ . і̆d̊
“Before he died, he said something to me.” Fick’s calm gaze swept across the entire venue, across those well-dressed nobles, those knight order representatives seated as straight as pines, and those scholars who held pens in their hands.
“He said: the thing I regret most in this life is becoming a knight.”
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Those words cut open all the propriety and reserve in the venue. The old knights clenched their fists. Alex sat motionless, his increasingly brilliant gaze falling upon Fick.
In the South Saphile camp, some lowered their heads, some turned livid, and some avoided Fick’s gaze.
“Mr. Leonard said that 《Don Quixote》 desecrates the name of knights with acts of madness and pleases commoners with vulgar jokes. He said a knight’s sword is swung only for justice. He said knights are born to protect dignity.”
“What he said is not wrong. That is indeed what the first half of a knight’s life is like.
Е ń ūm̌а.і́ d̈
“But I want to ask—who is responsible for the second half of a knight’s life? Who will draw a sword for the knights demanding their pensions? Who will toll the funeral bell for a knight?
“I think I have already had enough of chivalry that only shouts slogans and sings praises of suffering. That is why I wrote 《Don Quixote》, to seek justice and speak against injustice for every knight of the Saphile Empire!”
“Good!”
An aged yet resonant cheer exploded from the back row of the East Saphile camp.
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Everyone followed the sound and looked over. It was a white-haired retired old knight. He wore an old military uniform that had been washed until it had faded pale, and a battle medal whose color had long since dulled was still pinned to his chest. No one knew when he had stood up. His eyes were red-rimmed as he applauded, his palms clapping with sharp cracks, as if he wanted to clap out all the grievances of the past several decades.
“Good!” Another old knight beside him also stood up.
Ӗ.n u m̌а .і d̀
Then came a third, a fourth—
“Good!”
“Well said!”
“How many years have we waited to hear those words?”
In the seats of the East Saphile camp, the applause was like a lit fuse. The applause across the entire venue crackled and exploded.
Fick pressed the advantage. “Is Don Quixote not exactly like such people? He is as mad as those retired knights suffering from crystal addiction. Although he has some personal problems, he is still willing to stake everything, punish the wicked, aid the good, and carry out the chivalry in his heart.
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“Now, some people want to ban 《Don Quixote》 merely because their authority has been shaken. They want to deny a funeral elegy written by a man for his knight father. They want to loudly boast about self-sacrifice, thereby denying the suffering that countless retired knights are experiencing in reality.
“Some of you present may never have to worry about your livelihoods, but which family has no one who has gone to become a knight?
“If your family suffers setbacks in the future, and your descendants are forced to become knights, only to die in bed from crystal abuse in the end, will you still think 《Don Quixote》 is merely a popular novel?
“I have a dream. In this Saphile Empire, where Magic Crystals run rampant and crystal addiction has become a common practice, “If a child is a witch, whether she is from a fallen noble knight’s family or a commoner knight’s family, she will not have to risk her life at the Military Witch Academy like my younger sister Alice Louis just to live to the age of twenty;
“And if the child is an ordinary person, he will not have to stand here alone like me, facing the entire South Saphile’s pedants and academic cliques merely because he wrote a book. Instead, he will have his own room to finish his schoolwork, and his own ideals and future.
“The real Mr. Leonard wants to conduct a funeral for a fictional knight. But which great figure cares about real knights?
Éǹ ūm̃ӓ .і d̈
“Mr. Leonard wants to sound Don Quixote’s death knell. For whom does this bell toll?
“It tolls for the present and future of you knights and your families, who are the most worthy of respect and who suffer the most!”
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Some people said there was thunder on the clear day of Saint-Denis. Those who knew the truth said that it was Fick Louis giving a speech.
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